Reading The Will
by kishiria
Summary: Jion wins and Degin dies, without naming his successor


The King was dead.  
  
Degin Zabi, long-suffering founder of the Kingdom of Jion, passed away in his sleep on November 20, 0079. It was if the old man had chosen the moment of his departure. On October 5, his youngest son Garma had succeeded in capturing White Base, the linchpin of the Federation forces, while his best friend and favourite officer Char Aznable took out the Gundam. Jaburo fell soon after, with Jion battalions led by Colonel M'Quve being sent over from Europe for the purpose. With the battle against the Federation over, the king was free to leave matters in the hands of his four children.  
  
Kishiria Zabi was practically called from the table where the peace treaty was signed. She was flown home by her namesake Marines and conveyed quickly to the palace. Dozel Zabi left Solomon with his family at the same time. By coincidence, Kishiria's limousine pulled into the garage below the palace at the same moment as Dozel's. On exiting her car, she waited for him to approach and saluted. "Admiral Zabi."  
  
He returned it. "General Zabi." They fell into step as they entered the elevator reserved for the royal family.  
  
Once away from prying eyes, they dropped the military mannerisms and hugged each other. "What a reason to come home," Kishiria sighed into her brother's massive chest. "Even if we did know it was a possibility. He's hardly the first old man to die in his sleep."  
  
"I know, but he was our old man."  
  
The elevator arrived at their floor. Dozel's hand shot out and hit the "close door" button.  
  
"You know what the question on everyone's mind is going to be."  
  
"Of course," Kishiria said. "Which one of us is going to be the lucky winner." She smirked a bit. "Do you want to kiss your queen's hand now or later."  
  
Dozel glowered at her. "That's not even remotely funny, Kish."  
  
She shrugged. "Sorry."  
  
A liveried servant met them at the elevator door. "Welcome home, Your Highnesses. Prince Giren is waiting for you in his office."  
  
Giren was sitting at his desk as usual, talking on the phone as his secretary-cum-lover Lt. Cecilia Irene handed him documents to sign. The large painting of Degin behind his desk was draped in black cloth. He finished his call and remained sitting. "Kishiria, Dozel. You made it back here quickly. I don't see why; rushing isn't going to make Dad any less dead."  
  
"Giren, has anyone told you lately you're a prick?" Dozel asked conversationally.  
  
"Well, that's no way to talk to your sovereign," Giren told him, smiling.  
  
"Kish is making that claim too. Kings and queens everywhere, I feel that I'm in a winning hand at poker. Where's Garma?"  
  
"Garma. Oh. I sent the brat to his room. He wouldn't stop sniffling and it was getting on my nerves."  
  
"Poor thing. He probably wants to be left alone," said Kishiria. Only Dozel caught Cecilia's cautionary look and the small shake of her head.  
  
"I suppose the funeral arrangements are being made," Dozel said.  
  
"Those are being seen to," said Giren. "Dad left full instructions with his lawyer. Speaking of which, we see him tomorrow morning for the reading of the will."  
  
"Oh goodie," said Dozel. "Will this be on pay-per-view, because we could make a fortune."  
  
Giren smiled. "That's a good idea, I wish I'd thought of it. Now if you two will excuse me, I'm going to keep tying up these loose ends before I change offices."  
  
Kishiria went to unpack in her quarters. Dozel continued down the hall to Garma's apartment and rang the doorbell.  
  
After a moment, his brother opened the door. Garma had been crying all right, his eyes were red and puffy. He hurled himself into Dozel's arms and started sobbing anew.  
  
"Okay, okay, okay, enough already," Dozel said, putting a hand on his brother's thick dark hair. "Hush. Let's go inside." He steered Garma into a combination living room/dining room/kitchen suite and dropped him onto the couch. Garma had been spending a good long time there, Dozel observed by the crumpled tissues. Garma reached over and picked up a teddy bear from beside a seat cushion.  
  
"I don't think I need to ask you how you've been," Dozel said. "I'm glad you were here in Zum City when it happened, though."  
  
"I found the body," Garma said huskily. "When he didn't show up for breakfast, I went up to his room to see if he felt okay. I thought he was asleep, but then I couldn't wake him up." He squeezed the teddy bear, which Dozel recognized as one he'd had since he was five. Dozel wondered if it had accompanied Garma to Earth and back. "He looked so peaceful though, Dozel. I'm crying because I miss him already, but I honestly think he's in a better place."  
  
Dozel nodded. "He was old and tired. I hope he rests well." He smiled gently at Garma. "You're the first one of the sibs not to ask me to greet them as monarch already."  
  
Garma looked disgusted. "Why the hell would I do that?"  
  
Dozel's smile became a grin. "Garma, this is why you've always been my favourite."  
  
Garma stood. "Do you want a drink? I haven't had one yet. I was waiting for you and Kishiria."  
  
"Bourbon on the rocks."  
  
"Maker's Mark okay? I keep it for Char."  
  
"How is the little bastard, anyway?"  
  
Garma poured the bourbon and then fetched a whiskey neat for himself. "That little bastard, as you call him, happens to be my best friend. I couldn't have brought down White Base if it weren't for his pointing out that they were hiding in a sports arena." He sat down beside Dozel again. They clinked their glasses again. "To Dad. May his stay in purgatory be short."  
  
"To Dad."   
  
Garma had a sip of whiskey and said, "Capturing White Base was depressing. I am SO glad we defeated the Federation, because they deserved defeating. Okay, that whole Operation British thing has still got me outraged, but let the record show that our side has never resorted to using child soldiers."  
  
"Yeah, I read that. The Feddies were using kids."  
  
"Kids they'd drafted," Garma said, anger supplanting his grief. "Kids who had been out and out impressed into service. The Gundam pilot? He was 15. The captain? He was regular army, a veteran. 19 years old. Wow. Younger than me. Now I'm glad I didn't just blow the ship up outright, because it was full of old people and kids who were refugees, and I made a lot of fans that night by feeding them and shipping them all to their destinations."  
  
"How'd you capture it so easy?"  
  
"Once Char took out the Gundam, they just lay down their arms. They didn't want to fight. I made them prisoners under my protection. Char kind of pissed me off though, cause he had a boner for one of the women. I could sort of see why, she was blonde, his colouration actually, nice body, French accent. I'd have asked her out if she weren't my prisoner. Eh. She was kind of a bitch though. She's being debriefed, then sent back to Side 7 like the rest of them."  
  
"Good diplomatic call." Dozel looked up from his drink. "You were supposed to receive the Jion Cross for that, weren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, but Dad died before the ceremony could take place. There was so much to do still, and I had so much to tell him." The tears welled up again in his eyes.  
  
"Like what?" asked Dozel.  
  
Garma got up and fetched his wallet from the bedroom. He came back, taking a photograph from it, then sat and handed the picture to Dozel.  
  
"Pretty," Dozel said of the girl in the photo. "You've always been partial to this kind of dainty little blonde. What's her name?"  
  
"Iserina Estenbach. She's American. I was going to talk to Dad about her. We want to get married, and I wanted his permission."  
  
Dozel handed back the picture. "On behalf of Dad, that permission is refused. You're only 20. Wait a couple of years."  
  
Garma shrugged. "I just wanted to know if the marriage was even a possibility."  
  
"Sure, why not? Just because she's an Earthnoid? Knock yourself out, it'd be good PR for us, show that we really do love the groundhogs."  
  
"Glad you feel that way. I figure I can be ambassador to Earth or continue as viceroy over North America once whoever's going on the throne has gone onto the throne. My money's on Kishiria."  
  
"My money's on you."  
  
"Hah. That's funny."  
  
"Why not you?"  
  
"Because all of you are better at everything than I am. Giren's clever. You're big and strong and a great soldier. Kishiria's just...Kishiria, good at everything that crosses her path and quite frankly, my role model."  
  
"You have something the rest of us don't," Dozel said.  
  
"What's that, besides these looks of mine?"  
  
"This," said Dozel, and placed his huge hand over Garma's heart.  
  
Garma stayed with Dozel and Zena that night, and they took the same limousine to the lawyer's office together. The streets were unusually quiet, with the flags at half mast.  
  
Samuel Wainwright had been Degin Zabi's solicitor since Degin's arrival on Side 3. He was Earthborn himself, a Yale graduate. The two men had become friends over the years, and despite his professional demeanor it was clear that he too, was mourning.   
  
"Well, I know what you all are here for," Wainwright said once the Zabis were seated around a conference table with cups of coffee in front of them. Dozel and Garma seemed as pleased to be there as they would have been in a dentist's chair, waiting for the drill to start. Giren was cheerful and clearly optimistic. Kishiria was thoughtful   
  
Wainwright pointed to the four leather bound folders in front of them. "Here's the will. His Majesty's monetary assets are being split four ways. Crown corporations and all crown lands will of course pass into the hands of his successor."  
  
There were four nods around the table.  
  
The conversation turned to Degin's personal items. This took very little time and went smoothly, with the siblings agreeing in some cases to trade items. Finally, Wainwright said, "Now for the moment I'm sure you've all been waiting for. If you'll turn your attention to page 5, subsection 2...The issue of the line of succession."  
  
There was silence in the room as the four Zabis read.  
  
"Good choice!" said Dozel.  
  
"Not what I expected," said Kishiria.  
  
"Well, it's official. The old man was mad," said Giren. "I'd like to contest this."  
  
"I am not the final appeal," Wainwright said. "Your Majesty?"  
  
Garma said nothing. He was holding his copy of the will in one hand, twisting his hair with the other.   
  
"Your Majesty?"  
  
"Um...I think I need a minute."  
  
They let him have that minute. Kishiria re-read the document. Giren crossed his arms and seethed. Dozel watched Garma sit half-curled in his seat, worrying at his hair.  
  
Finally Garma looked up. "To be the final appeal, I have to accept the kingship, don't I?" he asked.   
  
"Yes, Your Majesty."  
  
"Isn't it ironic that even to refuse the crown, I have to accept it?"  
  
"It is indeed, Your Majesty."  
  
"In that case I do accept it, and I will address Giren's concern. Just not right now."   
  
Garma closed the will and remained in his chair for a long, hesitant moment. Finaly he stood and extended his right hand. Dozel walked up to his brother, knelt on one knee, and kissed his hand. Kishiria followed, looking disappointed but not angry. Wainwright was the next. Finally, it was just Garma and Giren, facing each other.  
  
"I know you're a proud man," Garma said. "I know that bowing in front of me is abhorrent to you, so I won't make you. Let that be the keynote of my reign. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'd like to be alone for a bit." He walked from the room, his step unusually heavy.  
  
The next hour found the three Zabi siblings sitting at a booth in the Zum City officer's club, drinking. Their bodyguards kept the other patrons at bay.   
  
"I didn't foresee Dad picking him," Kishiria said.   
  
"Mad about it?" asked Dozel.  
  
Her face lightened. "You know what? I'm not. I thought I would be, if I weren't chosen as successor but," she gazed into the depths of her red wine, "when I saw Garma walk out of that office, the first thing that came to mind was, 'Better you than me'."  
  
Dozel gazed down at his younger sister in admiration. "That in itself shows that you might not have been a bad choice."  
  
"Doesn't matter." Kishiria drained her glass and pointed to it for a refill. "It's not like I'm going to be out of work."  
  
Giren snarled into his ancient scotch. "The old man was clearly senile. Garma is a sweet, soft, marshmallow chick of a boy. Kingship is not a job for him. We need to talk him into abdicating, putting someone else on the throne, let him be an ambassador or some position where he can get people to be at peace with each other."  
  
"So we can more easily conquer them," Kishiria added.  
  
"I always knew you were smart," Giren told her, holding up his glass.  
  
Kishiria looked down at her cell phone. "I left a message for Garma. He hasn't responded, and I'm worried about him. He's become very valuable, and even if we haven't issued the press release yet..."  
  
Dozel drained his glass and stood. "I'll get him. I think I know where he is."  
  
Burial space in Zum City was at a premium, and very expensive even when all the remains were cremated. This hilltop plot was thus prime real estate, and should have been shared by several graves. It wasn't. A single stone was surrounded by a decorative iron fence. The stone in the middle was granite, about four feet tall, topped by an angel. In the Italian fashion, there was an oval tile with a photograph of the deceased set into the angel's pedestal.   
  
The photograph showed a woman of perhaps 30 years. Her sweet face was oval, her eyes large, her dark hair cascading in waves over her shoulders. Dozel gazed down at the portrait. "I'm always blown away by how much you look like Mama."  
  
Garma, seated on the grass beside the stone, ran a finger over the name NALISSE ZABI. "I am too. How'd you know I was here?"  
  
Dozel grunted as he sat. "This is where I come to think, too."  
  
"I come here to talk to her a lot," Garma said. "I always start by telling her how sorry I am for killing her. She'd still be alive if it weren't for me."  
  
"Garma..."  
  
"I could never understand why Dad didn't hate me. I think that's why I loved him so much, because he should have hated me, but instead he was the best father I could have wished for."  
  
Dozel reached up and unsnapped his spiky epaulets, rolled them up, and lay them on the grass. "Dad loved you because you meant so much to Mama she was willing to die for you. I didn't understand that until I became a parent myself. I wouldn't hate Mineba if Zena had died in childbirth. I'd love her as the last gift my wife gave to me. So if Mama's death is the root of all your self-loathing, it's time to give it up."  
  
Garma said nothing. Then he said as if in exasperation, "I don't deserve to be king! Why'd he have to choose me? I hope it wasn't just because I'm his spoiled lastborn."  
  
"Garma, what do you think Giren or Kishiria would have done to the crew and the passengers of White Base? What would I have done, for that matter?" To Garma's shrug he continued, "I would have taken them prisoner, but I wouldn't have cared so much for their safety as you did. Kishiria would have had the ones who were a nuisance shot. Giren...well, I'll leave that to your imagination. Dad knew that.   
  
"And another thing. There's one thing I've learned from being a tough guy all these years, and that's that even if you win a fight, you're still going to get hurt. Jion won, but it's nursing its wounds. A wounded country doesn't need a warrior-king, Garma, or a dictator. It needs you."  
  
Garma nodded. "I've been trying to think of how to include all of you in my reign. I can't think of what to do with Giren."  
  
"Giren's going to have to go."  
  
"I don't want to do that. He's my brother, and he's never harmed me."  
  
"But he will. He can't stand the idea of you as ruler, or anyone else but him."  
  
"How can we do that? I don't want to begin my reign with a fratricide." Garma twisted his hair again, then pulled his hand away. "I'd better learn to stop doing that."  
  
"Then find Giren a position within the Cabinet or the like. In the meantime, I advise you to come back with me to the officers' club and have lunch. The press conference is scheduled for the 6 o'clock news, announcing you as sovereign."  
  
Garma looked at his watch. "I have five hours left as a free man."  
  
"That's right, so come on. Lunch is on me, Prince Garma."  
  
Dozel stood and reached down to help the new sovereign to his feet. On an impulse, he tossed Garma over his shoulder and ran down the hill, with his little brother giggling all the way.  
  
  
  
"All right then, here's what I've decided."  
  
The Zabi siblings were sitting in Degin Zabi's old office. Garma was in the big desk chair, which had been made for the old man, so it didn't dwarf his successor. The other three were in comfortable chairs in front of him.  
  
"Dozel. You're now Commander-in-Chief over all the armed forces. I can't think of a better man for it than you."  
  
Dozel nodded. "I agree and accept."  
  
"Kishiria. I've been thinking a lot about my own capabilities, and I know I have failings. I'm brash in some circumstances, and perhaps too forgiving in others. I've decided to try out a completely new model of monarchy involving you. I want you to be my queen."  
  
Kishiria's mouth opened in shock.  
  
"What about the blonde?" Dozel asked.  
  
"You are NOT marrying Char Aznable!" Giren shouted angrily, pointing at Garma.   
  
Garma rolled his eyes. "Dozel and I were talking about my girlfriend. Princess Consort, Dozel. I'd make her Princess Consort."  
  
"Wait a second," said Kishiria, raising her fingers to her forehead. "One second we're talking about me being what I assume will be co-ruler, the next we're talking about some mysterious woman you're dating. Could we please stay on the first topic?  
  
"I propose us being the first brother/sister ruling pair in history that didn't involve incest," Garma told her. "I couldn't think of anyone who could rule better beside me. Yes, I am seeing someone, and yes, it is serious, but Dozel's suggested that I put off marrying her because of my age. If you're my queen, my romantic life doesn't have to be politically-driven, which is a big plus."  
  
Kishiria was smiling. "That's the most creative solution I've heard anyone come up with. Of course, I'm not going to say no to being queen!"  
  
"And in what role will I be serving Your Majesty?" Giren asked, clearly rankling against using the title.  
  
"Well that depends. I'm not going to give you any position if you're still planning on contesting Dad's will."  
  
Giren was carefully trying to control his words and facial expression. "Were I to do that, it would take too much time in court. I would be better off staying close to the rest of the family."  
  
"Very well, then. Minister of the Home Office."  
  
Giren nodded. "Spymaster General I will be, then."  
  
"I'm glad to hear we'll all be working together," Garma said. "Now then, we must announce my ascent to the throne to our people."  
  
Garma left, picking up his assistant on the way. Giren had something in his office to attend to first. Kishiria and Dozel decided to walk to the press pavilion.  
  
"Good choice of position for Giren," Kishiria said to Dozel, once they were outside and away from the palace. "All internal security in the country. A perfect job for Giren's talents, but also distant enough from the day to day operations of the Crown that he could be easily bypassed via the palace's own security."  
  
"Yes, very. How long should we let him enjoy it?"  
  
Kishiria considered it. "A couple of months, maybe. He'll have to be watched very closely during that time."  
  
"How should we do it?"  
  
"Giren uses cocaine. Accidental overdose. It's late; he's trying to stay awake, he'll just do too much."  
  
"That sounds plausible." The two walked along quietly for a few minutes. "Should we tell His Majesty?"  
  
"I think he'll know. He'll pretend not to, but he will."  
  
"Garma's not stupid," Dozel agreed. "So, this is what our job will be then? Keeping his reputation clean?"  
  
"If he's to be able to be the kind of ruler we've all envisioned-yes. I hope you can stomach that."  
  
"For Garma, I can stomach almost anything," Dozel assured her.  
  
"Pray that you not be put to the test," Kishiria quoted to him. "Happy face on now, though. Time to give the people King Garma." 


End file.
